


afterlife - tommy & wilbur

by OnlyForward



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Death, Dream Smp, TommyInnit - Freeform, afterlife with Wilbur and schlatt, tommy is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:02:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyForward/pseuds/OnlyForward
Summary: He feels more alone that he ever has, and takes one breath. He’s out - he’s out of the prison, that hell cell. Then, suddenly, he’s encased in a hug so tight it can only be one person, and it only takes a minute before oh shit, he’s crying really quite hard and he’s in hysterics and clutching to this guy’s back like he’ll never let go. Wilbur. Wilbur.Tommy meets Wilbur in the Afterlife after Dream kills him in the prison, and they chat about life and what comes after.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Tommy & Schlatt, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 121





	afterlife - tommy & wilbur

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this pre Tommy’s stream on 4/3/21 and am probs going to do a proper re-write about what happened in the actual afterlife :))

“Why don’t you go and see him then!” Dream is punching him, and he’s trying to squirm away but he’s too weak to get far away from him. The only thing he can do is-

“Stop it! Stop it!” Tommy cries. “Dream, STOP IT!”

The pain is indescribable - it’s everything and nothing at the same time. He feels more - more than ever before. Tubbo, he thinks. Tubbo and Sam and Jack and Ranboo and Phil and Niki and everyone. He’s going to go away from _everyone_ \- he won’t be able to see them anymore. The ache - the pain of knowing he’s going to be _gone forever_ , that’s almost enough for him to keep fighting, for him to pull through Dream’s punches and call out for Sam once more, a desperate cry.

But it isn’t enough to keep him alive, and with a final resounding blow, Tommy feels his heart flicker, once, twice. Agony. Dream is standing over him, a small smirk he can vaguely see with his blurred eyesight, before they involuntarily close.

And everything is white, for a split second. He feels more alone that he ever has, and takes one breath. He’s out - he’s out of the prison, that hell cell. Then, suddenly, he’s encased in a hug so tight it can only be one person, and it only takes a minute before oh shit, he’s crying really quite hard and he’s in hysterics and clutching to this guy’s back like he’ll never let go. _Wilbur._ Wilbur.

“Tommy?” Wilbur says, the voice hoarse and as though he’s only now realising, only now processing, that Tommy is here. That he can hug him once again. Reunited in this strange, cold place. It’s a question, kind of, an ask. How? Why? The hug is both a reprimand - you shouldn’t be here yet - and a blessing - I’m glad that you are, I’m glad you are here.

“Wilbur,” Tommy can hardly see his face, really. His eyes are blurred with tears. It’s all too much. So much has just happened. He knew not to run his mouth off around Dream, knew it would set him off if he argued too much. And yet. And now he’s left the rest of the server to - “Dream, he-“

“Tommy, I know. It’s okay - you did the best. You did the best you could.” Wilbur isn’t listening, he’s not hearing him properly. Tommy was an idiot - that wasn’t the best he could have done! He could have used the information, told Sam about Dream’s attempt to escape, his plotting. He could have waited it out just a bit longer, not have fallen prey to the instincts telling him he needed to argue and push further than necessary.

“He’s going to escape! Techno! And, and-“ Wilbur clutches him tightly, but Tommy is breathing fast, and his hands are sweating, and it’s all t o o m u c h and is this a panic attack? It sure feels like one he’s thinking way too fast right now and doesn’t quite have control of his body.He pushes Wilbur away, trying to actually talk to him, not just get comfort.

And there’s a moment - it reminds him of old times, the L’manberg times, before everything, before Schlatt and before Dream manipulated him, when Pogtopia didn’t exist and it was just him and Wilbur messing around.

Wilbur, staring jauntily at him, in that stupid suit like always, wrecked and dirty now from all the fighting, saying something intelligent. And Tommy, standing across, mouthing off about Dream’s incompetency or the next big thing they could do. But normally there would be people to their side - there would be Tubbo, or Niki, or Fundy, or anyone.

“He’s going to kill Tubbo, Will. He’s going to kill him-’’

“Then he’ll end up here with us?” Wilbur doesn’t seem to see the problem - he’s been here too long. That must be it - he’s made peace with it, because what else is there to do in this white space? Wilbur has been left alone for a long time, Tommy thinks, if he’s been able to come to terms with this, here, this nothingness. He seems to have forgotten the land of the living, what it’s like to live desperately.

Wilbur has been alone this entire time: wasting away, Tommy thinks.

He’s wrong.

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, I thought you might join us,” the smooth words of one of the worst motherfuckers Tommy has ever known float around the white space. Schlatt is there, in all his glory, rams horns and all. He’s got his hands on a bottle which is swishing with liquid.

Of course, because Schlatt is an alcoholic.

“Great. He’s here,” Wilbur grinds on his teeth. “Can I at least have some to keep me through this conversation?”

Schlatt chucks the bottle at Wilbur, who catches it with ease and takes a swig before returning the throw. Schlatt wobbles, and it misses his fingers. The bottle smashes on the floor, which is white and not even a floor. Nothingness, Tommy is reminded brutally that this is where he is. Some putrid version of the afterlife consisting of just him, Wilbur and Schlatt. More like hell, really.

It seems Wilbur is just as seasoned an alcoholic as he groans at the spilled beverage. “What a fucking waste, man!” Tommy glares at him. “I had to get into something to pass the time.” Will picks up a piece of the jagged glass and chucks it as hard as he can. It spins, turns into a bottle full of alcohol mid-air, and Schlatt snorts. “What is this, a game of fetch?”

“Yes,” Wilbur declares, and Schlatt shuffles off into the distance, appeased. Tommy’s eyes are wide - Wilbur just made a piece of glass into a full bottle of alcohol. “Everything here is not permanent, it’s temporary. And as a result, the glass bottle was remade from the previous one. All of the alcohol I consumed has gone back into the bottle. Schlatt has to be holding part of the glass, but he can get it supposedly ‘refilled’ when he wants.”

“So what? We can like…summon what we want?” Tommy inquires.

“Kind of,” Wilbur reasons, staring at him. It seems he’s still compartmentalising that Tommy is actually here, with him. "No people though - I tried that enough times." 

“My disks,” Tommy shouts into the white space, as though expecting some deity to answer him. No-one does, but he suddenly has them in his hands, and a jukebox appears too, conveniently. 

Maybe it won’t be so bad here, with Wilbur. If he can sit, listening to his music in peace, away from Dream and wait here until something else happens, until Tubbo passes through, or anyone,or until he decides to become a ghost. He can make peace with it, he supposes.

And so mellohi plays, and he sits on the jukebox watching Schlatt chase after his bottle, and thinks that it's going to be one hell of a long afterlife. 


End file.
